


I will never forget you

by Readingfanfics



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, M/M, Past Sexual History, Sherlock needs comfort, difficult relationship with food, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-12 21:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11170800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: Sherlock needs comfort and shelter from the world so he goes to the one person that can give him that.





	I will never forget you

“Sherlock?”

 

Just hearing his name come out in that soft, caring voice is enough for Sherlock to lose it. A stranger wouldn't be able to tell the difference if he walked by but Sherlock knows Greg can see it. See it in the posture of his body, how he tries to stand straight and strong but isn't managing it. Greg can see it in the tension in his shoulders and neck, how his hands are perfectly still but white as a sheet. How he holds his head down, hair falling before his eyes so others won't see the tears in the corner, ready to fall.

 

It's not much but Sherlock knows Greg can see what's going on and he doesn't mind, doesn't feel embarrassed by it. Still, he can't look up and meet that patient, kind look in Greg's eyes. He can't speak, his throat raw, tongue sticking inside his mouth. Even if he could he wouldn't be able to ask.

 

“Come inside Sherlock.”

 

He hears Greg step back and wants to move but his feet won't listening. A surge of panic enters his body and his left hand forms into a fist. Maybe he shouldn't have come? If he turns now and walks away he can try to fight alone. But his feet aren't doing _that_ either, so he just stands there, breathing in and out, feeling his chest rise and fall. It's a comfort, knowing he can still breath easily but the seconds are adding up and he still hasn't move and it won't take long before he panics a little more, feeling as if all the air in the world won't be enough.

 

A gentle touch startles him, blinking his eyes but still not looking up. He lets Greg take his elbow, feeling the soft squeeze before they move and now his feet start walking, over the steps and into the safe heaven he always needs. He feels the warmth of Greg's hand on his elbow, a comfort to make him keep walking, further into the house and his fist starts to uncurl. It's not nearly enough but it's something.

 

“Have you eaten?”

 

His eyes take in the kitchen floor, counting the tiles as soon as they enter and it calms his mind for a second. Greg's hand leaves his elbow and he feels Greg move in front of him, not too close but close enough to notice him. To know he's there and he's not alone. His elbow tingles and he wants to rub it but doesn't, hands still too stiff.

 

He risks a glance up, eyes only going to Greg's chest but it makes him relax a fraction more. Solid, strong and warm. Greg's chest is always like that, Sherlock knows cause he's been allowed to touch it, feel the muscles underneath sun coloured skin. He wants to crawl into that chest again, get lost in it but it's not the time. He wants to, but it's not what he needs. He's getting better at finding that out, finding the difference.

 

“You don't have to speak Sherlock but I need an answer from you.”

 

He's grateful Greg knows and grateful he doesn't ask again. His eyes go back to the floor, tracing the tiles as he shakes his head slowly.

 

“Okay.”

He's grateful for that too. No judgement, no sigh of frustration, no demand he needs to take better care of himself. His eyes go up again, seeing Greg's back now and he feels a sliver of something hot and demanding in his body as he watches Greg move to the counter. It's again something he wants, to feel that back under his hands, naked and sweaty but it's not what he needs. He wants to reach out and stroke Greg anyways, try to change his mind, tease and press against him but he knows it won't work.

 

“Sit down Sherlock.”

 

He blinks, eyes going to the chairs, trying to decide which one is best. It takes too long to choose but Greg doesn't say anything. Sherlock can feel Greg's eyes on him as he stands there, eyes shifting from chair to chair, going over all the pro's and cons from each one. In the end he decided to take the one at the top, with his back to the window but a clear view to the hallway. It's easier when he knows there's a way out.

 

“Eat this. All of it.”

 

His stomach does a flip, taking in the bread and fruit in front of him. His eyes meet Greg's for the first time and his hand twitches once. It's not a command, not really but he takes it as one anyway, willing himself to take a strawberry. He's halfway there when his hand stops and he wants to scream in frustration. It hangs there, mid air and useless and he feels his face get warmer, the tension in his shoulders going up a fraction. He bites his lip, wanting to draw blood but knowing Greg doesn't approve of that. His eyes go up again, focused on the spot where Greg's heart is and it calms him down a fraction. He's not alone and he won't be tonight. His hand finally moves again, taking the strawberry and bringing it to his lips, letting it touch them for a second before opening his mouth and eating it.

 

It's sweet and perfect, chewing slowly, letting the flavour fill his mouth as he closes his eyes. He hears Greg move and knows the man is watching him, his skin tickles from it but it's okay. It's not invasive or creepy and he swallows the strawberry down, opening his eyes to meet Greg's, seeing the approval in those puppy brown eyes.

 

“First strawberries of the year. Good right?”

 

Sherlock nods, seeing Greg's tiny smile before his eyes go back to his plate. It's not a big portion but if seems huge for Sherlock, unease settles in, unsure if he'll be able to eat it all. No matter how good the fruit tastes. He takes a breath and sips his water, the dryness of his throat a little less but his tongue is still useless, words burning to be spoken but unable to.

 

“Let me help?”

 

A hint of doubt in the question and Sherlock looks up, seeing the fork in Greg's hand. His eyes focus in on it, a wash of relief going over him as he gives a nod, seeing the fork go forward to take a strawberry. He follows it with his eyes, the piece of fruit hovering before him and it takes him a second to lean forward, then another second to open his mouth and take the piece off the fork. It's not unpleasant, the fork helping, but it's not easy too. Another piece of fruit hangs before him again, patiently waiting and he takes that one also, a little faster then before, the sweetness intensifying as he eats all the strawberries on his plate.

 

“Want something on your bread?”

 

Sherlock opens his mouth to speak but it's still not working and he frowns. He hates this but it's out of his control. His eyes find Greg's and there is nothing but compassion in them as Greg gets up and moves to the fridge, coming back with some jars.

 

“I have strawberry.”

 

He can manage a tiny smile and Greg returns it, just as bright and honest as always. It's a gift, being so open and honest in this world and it always leaves Sherlock a little sad, a little jealous. It's never as easy for him, even now, with Greg that he has known for years, it's still a challenge. But Greg understands him in a way nobody else does, not even his brother. He doesn't press for an answer, doesn't demand it, just giving Sherlock space, time and understanding.

 

Even in the very beginning, when Sherlock didn't know what he needed and asked for the wrong thing there was nothing but patience there. Care and comfort.

 

“There you go.”

 

His plate is back, bread filled with strawberry jam and this time his hand doesn't linger. He takes the bread, not able to not sniff if before he takes a bite, letting the flavours settle on his tongue as he chews, head back down, eyes closed. He hears Greg get up, putting the jars and other things away and he wants to smile. Greg knows how weird Sherlock can be about food, about mess next to his food.

 

He finished his bread, feeling his stomach relax as he drinks the rest of the water. It feels better already but his body is still too stiff, too tight and he rolls his shoulders, hearing his bones crack and click underneath his skin.

 

“Come on.”

 

Greg is by his side, his hand stretch out and Sherlock takes it, curling his fingers around Greg's, feeling the warmth sip inside his own palm. He lets Greg pull him off the chair, his body heavy as they move further inside the house, up the stairs before stopping in front of a door. Sherlock knows this door, his back has been pressed against it many times. He feels a shiver run down his spine but Greg lets go of his hand, opening the door and flicking on the lights.

 

“Shower or bath?”

 

Sherlock looks up, his eyes focusing in on the bed, remembering how big it is, how soft and warm. He doesn't want a shower or a bath, he wants to reach out, feel Greg against his body, hear his steady heartbeat, taste the salt on his skin. His hands clench and unclech, not able to tear his gaze away from the bed and he hears Greg clear his throat, a careful step forward.

 

“You know that won't help. Not in the long run.”

 

He bites his lip as he looks at Greg's face, seeing the care there but also a hint of worry and something else. He shivers and then swallows.

 

“Bath.”

 

A nod of approval, a little firmer then it should be and then Greg turns and walks to the bathroom. Sherlock walks into the room, closing the door behind him and willing himself to walk forward, not looking at the bed, willing himself to clear his mind.

 

Water is running now and he smells a hint of coconut in the air. Greg always remembers. He starts unbuttoning his coat but his fingers won't co operate midway through, a flash of irritation being voiced with an angry sigh and Greg is in front of him, hands placed on his, waiting.

 

He nods, not meeting Greg's eyes and feels a hint of relief when Greg openes the rest of the buttons for him. He can feel Greg's warmth, smell that mix of earth and sea and he leans forward a little, letting his head rest on Greg's shoulder, breating him in.

 

“Oh Sunshine.”

 

The nickname makes his heart do a flip and he nuzzles his noise deeper in the crook of Greg's neck, hands wrapping around the man. Greg lets it happen, one hand finding his back and gently stroking it, letting Sherlock grab a tighter hold of him. He moves a little closer, his groin touching Greg's body and Greg just stands still, the movement on Sherlock's back halted for a second.

 

“Sherlock don't.”

 

It has pain in there, longing and Sherlock grabs hold of Greg tighter but keeps his groin away. He doesn't want to lose Greg, even if all he can think of now is their naked bodies, touching and teasing each other. He remembers how Greg feels inside him, how smooth Greg's skin is, what sounds Greg makes as he comes inside Sherlock. He lets out a growl, suddenly stepping back and feeling heat rise on his cheeks, his neck.

 

His hands are trembling, eyes to the floor and it's too loud inside his head.

 

“Breath Sherlock. Do it for me. Nice and slow. Here,” Greg takes Sherlock's hand and places it on his chest, feeling Greg's heart beat underneath his balm, feeling his chest go up and down. “Just like that Sherlock, in and out. That's it.”

 

It helps, feeling Greg's skin underneath his hand and he calms down, feeling his eyes sting from unshed tears. He looks up quickly, seeing the care in Greg's eyes and gives a smile.

 

“I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please don't leave me.”

 

Greg understands without Sherlock needing to say it, smiling back in return and gesturing to Sherlock's clothes. Sherlock nods and Greg comes closer again, helping peel back all the layers, slowly revealing Sherlock's body.

 

He still doesn't understand what Greg sees in him, even now Greg's eyes go wider as he takes off Sherlock's shirt, eyes roaming over his chest. The attention makes his nipples stand up and Greg licks his lips before looking away, dropping the shirt down on a stool.

 

“Greg.”

But Greg turns back, shaking his head, eyes going hard as he helps Sherlock out of his pants and underwear. Greg's eyes don't travel down there but Sherlock knows he wants to. Greg called him beautiful, stunning, gorgeous and he still thinks that. Sherlock can see it in the way Greg tries not to touch him.

 

“Go on, don't want the water getting cold.”

 

Getting in and letting the water soak him up is heaven, it's just the right amount of hot and cold and he looks down, seeing the bubbles cover his skin. Greg is still there, his nervous energy filling the room and Sherlock turns his head.

 

“Don't go.”

 

Greg sighs but relaxes, getting closer to Sherlock and sitting down on another stool. Before Greg got in the water with him, letting Sherlock lean against his strong chest, going over Sherlock's body with his hands. Driving him crazy, making him come in the water. Images fill his mind and his body is on fire, his cock wanting it, craving it but he bits his lip, hands going into fists and closing his eyes.

 

“Sherlock?”

 

A sliver of worry and Sherlock shakes his head, looking up at Greg, seeing the blush on his cheeks.

 

“It's fine. I'm fine.”

 

A tight smile comes Sherlock's way and he reaches out his hand, water falling on the floor. Greg takes it after a moment, squeezing it tight and Sherlock brings it closer, giving a light kiss on Greg's knuckles.

 

“Promise I'm fine. Thank you.”

 

“Want me to wash your hair?”

 

He can't help his intake of breath, seeing how it affects Greg and he lets go of his hand, biting his lip as Greg waits, cheeks still warm. Greg's hands are magical, he knows this cause he's had them all over his body, making him moan and gasp, scream and curse. But nothing is better then Greg's hands in his hair, massaging his scalp, paying close attention to every curl, every sound Sherlock makes. Greg can't give him what he wants but this is his compromise, a gift Sherlock can't refuse.

 

“Y-yes.”

 

He lets out a loud moan as Greg's hands start their work, hearing Greg curse silently behind him. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something but then Greg's hands press on his skull and he's lost to the sensations. He wants it to last forever, feeling Greg's nails scrape his skull before massage again, letting the shampoo do it's work. Greg's hands wander down Sherlock's neck, massaging his shoulder and it's then he really feels how stiff he is. His muscles are all in nods and it hurts a little as Greg prods and pokes, untangling his stress one stroke at a time.

 

“Close your eyes Sherlock.”

Warm water runs down his hair, taking the shampoo and stress with it and he feels better then before. He lets Greg play with his hair a while longer, sighing at the sensation, his body glowing with it. He humps as Greg's lips place a kiss on his shoulder before moving away.

 

“Time to get out, water is turning cold.”

 

“But-”

 

“You're starting to wrinkle Sherlock. Come on, out you get.”

 

Sherlock sulks as Greg reaches out a hand, helping him out of the bath. He shivers instantly and Greg wastes no time rubbing him dry. His skin tingles as Greg's hands dry his arms and chest, going down to his groin and legs. He lets out a huff as Greg's knees protest when he gets back up and Greg raises an eyebrow.

 

“Your day will come Mister. Here, put this on.”

 

Sherlock's eyes go wide as he takes in the outfit, it's soft and warm, just his size and he wants to purr as his body warms up because of it. He takes the edge of the shirt and sniffs, smelling Greg's scent on it and blinks his eyes, smelling again.

 

“Okay Sherlock?”

 

“It's perfect.”

 

Greg beams like the sun as he drains the bath and Sherlock wiggles his toes, liking the softness of his socks. It all feels natural and fresh, not scratchy at all and Sherlock doesn't understand how Greg knows this. He's smarter then people give him credit for and his heart breaks a little as he realises he too takes him for granted.

 

He looks up at the man, busy with cleaning up after him and it fils him with sadness. He's always cleaning up after him, cleaning up his mess and Sherlock hates himself in that moment. He turns sharply, opening the door too hard, letting it smach into the wall and walks out into the bedroom.

 

“Sherlock?!”

 

Of course Greg is right behind him and he turns, Greg crashing into him, almost knocking them to the ground. Greg reaches out, steadying Sherlock by his waist and Sherlock breaks. Tears start running down his cheeks, making the world a blur. He lets Greg lead him to the bed, sitting down and feeling the mattress dip as Greg sits next to him, pulling him close to his side.

 

He wants to speak, explain but his throat his shut tight again, eyes hurting as the tears just keep falling. He turns his head, burying his face in Greg's chest, tears staining the man's shirt and he clings to him, his nails digging in.

 

“Shht Sunshine, it's okay. That's it, let it all out. I'm so sorry baby, shht, it's okay.”

 

It takes too long to calm down and by the time he is calm he's exhausted, clinging to Greg for support and comfort. Knowing Greg won't refuse him. He lifts his head up, blinking to see past the tears and finds the concern in those brown eyes. Concern for him.

 

He wants to cry again because of it, still not knowing why Greg cares so much for him, why Greg stays by his side. He's been a horrible man, a rude and obnoxious bastard but Greg is still here, taking care of him.

 

“I'm s-sorry.”

 

Weariness brings out his stutter but he can't seem to care, can't seem to be embarrassed by it. Greg knows him, the worst version of him and he's still here so his stutter can't be that bad for Greg to know about. He wipes his tears away after he lets go of Greg slowly, wanting to crawl up in his warmth, his strength. He takes the glass of water Greg gives him, drinking it all down and finding his voice again. Greg waits patiently, taking the glass back and placing it on the night stand, rubbing Sherlock's back in soothing circles.

 

“Don't apologise Sherlock. You know you don't have to pretend around me.”

 

Sherlock gives a weak smile and Greg rubs his back a bit harder, eyes going over Sherlock's face, making sure he's really fine. He can't help but reach out, cupping Greg's cheek with one hand as he slowly leans forward, giving Greg enough time to back out. There is longing in his eyes, mixed with worry and Sherlock's thumb strokes Greg's cheek, seeing Greg's eyes close at the movement.

 

“Sherlock.”

 

“It's just a thank you.” He whispers as he closes the distance, his lips meeting Greg's, pressing them, resting there for a while. It's a thank you and an apology all together, the tip of his tongue coming out to taste Greg's lips. Greg lets out a little sigh, opening his mouth enough for Sherlock to slip in and he takes the opportunity, tongue tracing inside Greg's mouth, getting familiar with his taste again.

 

Greg's hands make their way into Sherlock's hair, grabbing hold of curls as their tongues meet and Sherlock moans, Greg's body moving closer, pushing him down on the bed, his weight trapping Sherlock, pinning him down.

 

Greg's hands are warm and soft as they move over Sherlock's side, Sherlock shifting so they're even closer, feeling Greg's cock against his leg. Greg lets out a growl as he breaks the kiss, looking down at Sherlock with mixed emotions in his eyes.

 

“We can't do this Sherlock.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“It never works. You know that.”

 

Greg's eyes turn sad as he lifts himself of Sherlock, sitting down next to him, hand going into his hair as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

 

“It's not good for us. You know I'll always help you, I'll always be your friend but this, it's not good for me Sherlock.”

Sherlock's heart dies as Greg looks away, the space between them getting bigger and more cold as the seconds go by.

 

“I don't- I didn't mean to-” Sherlock stops speaking, biting his lip as he looks down. He doesn't know what to say, how to explain. He reaches out instead, taking Greg's hand and Greg lets him, squeezing their palms together for a second. He moves closer, letting his head drop to Greg's shoulder and they sit there for a long time. The silence wraps around them, lingering there as they just sit and breath, taking in the comfort of each other. Even now Sherlock feels peace, unwilling to move, to break this fragile thing but he can't stop the yawn from coming out.

 

“You should get some sleep.” Greg squeezes his hand again, his voice soft and kind and Sherlock wants to refuse but he yawns again. Stupid body and its needs!

 

“Go on, get in, you'll feel much better in the morning.”

 

Sherlock scowls but does as Greg says, wrapping himself up Greg's sheets. He buries his noise in it, taking in the sent and relaxes instantly. He startles a little as the matrress dips again, a strong arm wrapping around him.

 

“Is this okay Sherlock?”

 

“Yes. For you?”

 

He hears Greg sigh, pulling him closer before whispering.

 

“Maybe not, but I don't want to leave you Sherlock. Go to sleep.”

 

He wants to talk about it more, find out what Greg means but he's too exhausted, his head lightly hurting from his crying session so he lets himself relax in Greg's hold, feeling the solid form behind him, protecting him from the world.

 

It's good here, safe and soon Sherlock falls asleep, his mind again at ease.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this came from. I just like care fics where Greg takes care of Sherlock and for some reason they don't end up having sex. :/ 
> 
> I kinda like it and I hope you did too.


End file.
